


I'm good to go

by anoneknewmoose



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Erectile Dysfunction, Impact Play, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, No Aftercare, Object Insertion, Past Torture, Stone Top, Strapping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-02
Updated: 2015-07-02
Packaged: 2018-04-07 06:26:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4252830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anoneknewmoose/pseuds/anoneknewmoose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a long long road to recovery, but Steve and Bucky have found a system that works.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm good to go

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hobbitdragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hobbitdragon/gifts).



> There is no description of Bucky's past abuse, but there are allusions to its effects and his recovery.

Bucky's fingers running through Steve's hair always makes him _melt_. He won't do it with the metal hand, yet, but Steve hopes; it's already such an improvement over the early days. Back then, Steve never could have imagined they'd have quiet moments like this. Steve is naked, sprawled on the bed between Bucky's thighs. Bucky is relatively undressed in a long sleeve T and jeans, one bare foot hooked over Steve's hip. They're both calm, Bucky's heartbeat and breathing echoing Steve's, and Steve takes an extra deep breath before he speaks.

"Bucky," Steve says.

"Mm?" Bucky says, and Steve smiles that he's so relaxed he isn't even bothering with words.

"We should talk about Saturday," Steve says, and he's not surprised when Bucky's thigh takes on a thread of tension. Tuesday and Thursday are therapy days; Monday, Wednesday, and Friday are work days; Sunday is for rest.

Saturday is for play, and lately, that means Steve being spanked, or Steve being tied up while Bucky wrings orgasms out of him, or Bucky pinching and scratching Steve's nipples until he cries. Any other day of the week, Bucky is in charge; Steve is happy to wear the clothes he picks, eat the food he makes, and make love the way Bucky wants.

Bucky's still in charge on Saturdays, but Steve gets to push.

Steve nuzzles slowly at Bucky's thigh, until a woosh of air ruffles Steve's hair and Bucky says, "Okay, go." 

"I want a strapping."

"A _strapping_?"

"I think I'd like it." Steve smiles up at him. "I like getting punched, remember?"

Bucky snorts and rolls his eyes, tugging sharply at Steve's hair. "Not happening, Rogers." 

"I know." Steve hums to himself, letting Bucky slowly roll his head from side to side. He's let his hair grow out, just a little; it's long enough now to curl completely around Bucky's fingers.

"Strapping. We haven't tried implements, yet." Bucky's voice is even, but the barest tremor goes through his fingers. Steve squeezes his knee and leaves his hand there, petting him with a thumb.

"I know," Steve says. He waits five breaths, then adds, "I've already bought one that I thought would work. Wanna see?"

"Eager boy," Bucky murmurs. His shoulders lower a fraction of an inch and he nods, releasing Steve's hair.

Steve rolls off the bed and pulls a long thin paper bag out of the top bureau drawer, hands it to Bucky, sits on the bed with one leg curled under him.

Bucky traces the shape in the bag with his fingers, then reaches inside, pulls out the strap and holds it. It doesn't look like much, a foot of black leather attached to a chrome handle. The handle is weighted, perfectly balanced; Steve checked. It ends in a heavy ball. Bucky circles it with the tip of his middle finger and shoots Steve a smirk.

 

***

 

"Try it."

Steve glances up at the cuffs around his wrists, chained to a thick engineered beam. Bucky built the rigging himself and Steve knows it could hold an elephant, but he obliges, pulling against the chains until they groan.

They hold, and Steve relaxes. Bucky nods, but his eyes are still studying the chains. Steve says softly, "Hey," and sways forward, letting the cuffs haul his arms back while he presses a kiss to Bucky's cheek. "Green, Buck."

"Right," Bucky says, and exhales through his nose. He runs his hands up Steve's sides to his triceps, digs his thumbs in there until Steve whines and rocks back onto his heels. Bucky lets out an amused huff. "Always pushing, Steve."

"Mmhmm," Steve hums. He turns his head to kiss Bucky's bare forearm, nuzzles his skin up to the the barrier of his sleeve. "Say the words, Bucky."

Bucky's eyes focus, a kissing cousin of his sniper concentration. "What's my name?"

Steve grins. "Buck."

"Why am I here?" Bucky asks, running his hands back down Steve's chest.

"To play, Buck." Steve sighs, arching a little to follow the movement of Bucky's hands.

"What are we doing tonight?" Bucky says, leaning in to kiss Steve's sternum, then along the curve of his pec. He always bites there, sharp stinging little nips, and Steve moans.

"The strap, Buck."

"That's right." Bucky pinches Steve's nipples, twisting until he gasps, then soothes the ache away with his palms. Steve's dick is thick and growing heavy between his thighs, but Bucky's hands never even go near his hips; they trail around his waist as Bucky moves to Steve's back.

"I'm going to hit you, Steve," Bucky says, following the lines of the muscles in Steve's back. "Here, and down on your beautiful ass, and your thighs."

"Yes, Buck." Steve hums happily and rocks back into his touch, shifting his feet to shoulder width apart so Bucky can touch between his cheeks, his balls, the insides of his thighs. His calluses catch on the fine hairs, a weird tingling tickle that makes Steve squirm.

"Easy," Bucky says, pressing his thumbs to either side of Steve's spine and dragging down, forcing all the tension out of his back. "What do you say to stop?"

"Red, Buck."

"And what do you say to keep going?" Bucky's hands cup his hips, then slide over his lower abs. His jeans and shirt brush against Steve's bare skin, and Steve shivers.

"Green, Buck."

"Good." Bucky rests his forehead in the middle of Steve's back while his metal hand checks Steve's pulse through his chest. 

It's steady as ever, of course. Steve's miles away from any sort of fear.

Bucky takes a deep breath and steps away. Steve's alone for a moment in the quiet of their bedroom, and then there's the light thwap of the strap against Bucky's thigh. It comes again and again, until Steve looks over his shoulder at him. 

"Green, Buck."

_Then_ the strap meets Steve's flesh. Across his ass first, firm but not hard, just enough to feel the weight of it. Bucky packs strokes in tight, no overlap but no gap between them either, and every swing is more powerful than the last. Steve's gasping by the time Bucky stops. None of it, individually, was particularly painful, but there's a cumulative effect that leaves Steve buzzing. 

Steve barely has time to rattle his chains before Bucky's plastered against his back. His jeans chafe Steve's skin and he groans.

"Color, Steve," Bucky says. His voice is tense, his hands tight on Steve's hips.

"Green, Buck," Steve says, leaning back into Bucky's warmth. 

Bucky melts against him and Steve can feel his lips smiling against his neck. "Good. That's good."

"It is, s'matter of fact," Steve says, and he twists to lay a kiss on Bucky's jaw. "More?"

"Yeah," Bucky murmurs. His metal hand moves low on Steve's abdomen and keeps going, curving over his cock. Steve sighs, tries to arch into it, get _some_ sort of friction, but Bucky just chuckles and rotates his wrist to gently cup his balls and cock, lift them away from Steve's body. "Legs together, baby."

"Yes, Buck," Steve says. He's dopey enough that it takes him a moment to realize what's going on, and the thought of the strap catching his balls or cock sends a thrill through him, makes him whine.

Not something to say to Bucky, though. Not yet. But Steve presses his thighs together and offers himself up.

Bucky says, "Good boy," and the strap comes back, tongues of fire that settle into Steve's muscles and makes his cock ache. His mind is warmed to it now, and he knows Bucky's settled; he lets himself float on sensations and endorphins. 

Bucky checks on him, runs his hands over Steve's inflamed skin. It burns in a way that makes slick roll down Steve's cock, where it chills and makes him shiver. Bucky guides Steve's hips forward, nudging him to stand up straight.

"I want to do your back too, Steve. You good?" Bucky asks, nosing through Steve's sweaty hair.

"Mm." Steve shakes his head a little, swallowing thickly. "Yeah, Buck. Green."

"Okay." 

Bucky's quicker to get back to it this time, now that they're both warmed up. The muscle's thicker along his back and shoulders, and Steve's more used to impact there. He can take more, and Bucky knows it. 

It hurts, of course, but Steve Rogers never let a bit of pain get in his way. Not when it feels so _good_.

It feels good enough that Steve checks out for a little while. He's still a little fuzzy on details when Bucky stops, but Bucky's hands dragging down his back wake him up.

"Shit, Buck!" Steve yelps, but he's laughing and arching into it, looking back over his shoulder at Bucky's smiling face.

"You're so pretty like this, Stevie, you know that?" Bucky squeezes his waist, licking across a mark high on Steve's shoulder.

"Feel pretty," Steve mumbles. Bucky laughs, but Steve doesn't have it in him to be embarrassed, not when Bucky's petting his sides and up his arms. He uncuffs Steve's wrists and lowers them carefully. They walk to the bed together, Steve half held by Bucky, and Bucky helps him crawl onto it.

"You wanna get off, pretty?" Bucky's hands are soft and warm on him, fingernails scratching at Steve's belly while his metal fingers tease between his cheeks.

"Yes, Buck," Steve moans, rocking back toward Bucky's fingers. "C'mon, please."

"Yeah, Stevie, I've got you." Bucky kisses his back, his shoulders, down his spine, distracting him and making him squirm back into the fingers opening him up. The metal fingers are thicker and absolutely implacable, but Bucky's as gentle and steady as he can be.

It drives Steve _wild_. But then Bucky's fingers are replaced by a hard, bulging, thickness, relentlessly pushing into him, making him whimper. "Buck--what?" 

"You know, baby, use that big brain of yours," Bucky says. His other hand rubs up Steve's neck into the back of his hair, gripping and shaking him a little.

"Shit." Steve groans loudly. "Shit, I love you."

"You too, Stevie," Bucky says. 

Steve's body finally relaxes that last little bit. The ball of the strap's handle pops inside, the curved metal driving it right over his prostate. It makes him howl and twist but Bucky's hand forces him down, bruisingly hard on his shoulder.

It's shockingly intense. There's no room in Steve's mind for missing Bucky's fingers, or the depth a dildo can reach. Bucky rocks the toy in him, over and over, and it _forces_ the orgasm out of him, makes Steve scream and yank against Bucky's grip. Every thrust of the ball sends a wave crashing through him, until he slumps onto the bed in a whimpering mess.

"Jesus," Bucky says behind him. The toy stops moving. His hand smoothes down Steve's neck, rubbing him. "Holy shit, baby."

Steve grunts out an "uh huh" and rolls onto his side so he can see. Bucky's still clothed, a little sweaty but cock soft, and his hand trails over Steve's body to his chest. He's still smiling, looking down at Steve equal parts smug and awed and proud.

"How're you feeling?" Bucky asks.

Steve sighs and grips Bucky's wrist, squeezing gently. "Green, Buck."

**Author's Note:**

> Title is, yes, from Fall Out Boy's "Saturday." All my love to J for encouragement. ♥


End file.
